


At the Well

by Zhadyra (Shizuka_Kuroko)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Geese, Goose girl at the spring au, M/M, Medieval AU, fairy tale AU, goose girl at the well au, yes Chris is the witch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-01 20:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shizuka_Kuroko/pseuds/Zhadyra
Summary: “Okay maybe this had been a bad idea.Looking around himself Yuri could see trees, trees, trees oh and the way that he was walking upon. It lead towards a crossroad in the distance then faded into one with the trees. Looking up through the green crowns of leaves the shadows of mountains were visible.”“We arranged for someone to marry you. You cannot keep behaving like this anymore.It was just him.Just Yuri and the clothes he was wearing on his body.”After headlessly running away when his parents want to marry him to some princess, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself in a forest far away from home.There he meets a strange man that ends up tricking him.But even if Yuri is reluctant at first he soon needs to admit that this was the best thing that could have happened to him.He does not only find a house in the mountains with geese and a fairly ugly geese herd and a town with a beautiful castle and a missing prince, but also himself.





	1. Runaway

**Author's Note:**

> This is my work for the wonderful otayuri Big Bang. I really need to say thank you. It was incredibly much fun and I got to know so many of the best people!!! The organisation was incredible too. Thank you a lot for letting me take part and giving me the chance to let my love for Yuri on Ice stay alive.
> 
> For more information go to my tumblr: zhadyra.tumblr.com  
> Special thanks goes out to my wonderful artist whose works you will be able to see here:  
> https://icetiiger.tumblr.com/post/180597658036/its-finally-time-to-post-these-bad-boys-and-i

Okay maybe this had been a bad idea.  
  
Looking around himself Yuri could see trees, trees, trees oh and the way that he was walking upon. It lead towards a crossroad in the distance then faded into one with the trees. Looking up through the green crowns of leaves the shadows of mountains were visible.   
  
It was the middle of the day, the sun burning down mercilessly, leaving specks of light dancing on the forest ground.   
  
The end of summer brought heat with renewed vigour and the air was only cooled by the forest. The tunic Yuri was wearing was way too hot and the little food he had thought to pack was already starting to run out. Not even starting to think about the water. Through sheer luck alone there had been a little stream of fresh, blessedly cold water coming out of the ground that he stumbled upon not far into his journey. When he had rushed to get away he had nearly forgotten about taking something to drink.   
  
Stupid fighting. Stupid Yakov. Always getting into business that wasn't his own and always trying to solve it, but being way too incompetent and way too forceful to really be any help.   
Not that Yuri had for one moment even considered to accept help. If pushed he would always push back, especially with Yakov.   
  
Being honourable, bringing honour to the family, doing something outstanding or marrying somebody from a higher family, that had been his fathers wishes. Social, political advancement had been his aim. Being closer to the king. Influence.   
  
All of that had Yuri scowling and turning away from him further. He didn't need all of that.   
  
Arranged marriages were hell most of the time and like exactly this hell would he get pressured into one. By his own father none the less.   
  
Breathing out forcefully Yuri continued his way.   
  
Yes. This definitely had been a bad idea.   
  
But there was nothing he could do about it now. Running away from home and getting lost in the forest. How stupid. How absolutely idiotic and imbecile. What had he been thinking?   
  
But then he remembered his fathers idiocy, his pushing, all the possible arranged marriages he had been dreading, all of the pressure that Yakov had put on him, all the expectations to be more, to be different, to be the perfect son, oh so well behaved and diplomatic, calm, _calm_ , and doing exactly what was expected of him; the expectations of him to be something he really wasn't and that he never wanted or could be, no matter how hard he tried. So he hadn't.   
He remembered his mother, remembered Lilia with her fierce, strong and somehow both quiet and forceful nature, Lilia that was so different from him and yet oh so similar. She made a good lady, a good leader of the house, the only one who could sway Yakov. But she hadn't and even if he knew that it was neither her duty nor in her power to do something against the treatment that Yuri had endured, he couldn't help but hold it against her.

And he hated himself a little bit more for it.   
Lilia that had been a good mother, someone he could confine in, but there was a distance that couldn't be bridged, a helplessness that divided them. He would miss her a lot but she had not been a reason to stay. 

He remembered Viktor, his oldest brother, Viktor with his stupid talk about duty, Viktor, always the perfect son, the perfect heir, the perfect everything.

He remembered Viktor, Viktor that had only been a bother and had only annoyed him and had only been everything that he was and could not be and all of his hatred, no, all of his anger resurfaced.   


He thought of Mila, his older sister that he actually could stand even though never in his life would he be willing to admit that. He thought of her teasing, of how she would have called him out for being stupid for forgetting water when it was so obviously hot. He thought of Mila, the stupid hag and he thought about how he would miss her, in his own twisted way.   


He thought about Georgi, about his overdramatic, yet oh so fitting personality, about the way that he could be annoying and emotional, the way that he could still intrigue people with it and capture their attention and liking without even saying anything and yet talking without break. He thought about Georgi and he thought about how even though he was really annoying in the way he behaved, it wasn't on purpose to annoy him specifically, wasn't intentional and he thought that maybe, even maybe Georgi wasn't half bad.  
  
Being the youngest in his family hadn't given him a special place like others. It hadn't given him any advantages, no, rather the opposite.   
  
His parents had seen what they had done wrong in raising their other children and tried to do it perfect with him now. He was always expected to be perfect. But the upbringing that would have suited Viktor, or Mila or maybe Georgi did not suit him at all. He was different. Yuri was his own person.   
  
Just days before, everything had escalated.   
The fight he had had with Yakov had been the worst he could remember. They had butted heads hard, Yakov had pushed and pushed and pushed and Yuri had pushed back.   
Had pushed back until Yakov hadn't anymore.   
Yuri had pushed more and more until his fathers face had lost his red colouring, until he stopped shouting, until he waited him out, waited until he stopped shouting back and was quiet.   
And Yuri had stopped shouting eventually, had quieted down.   
And he stayed silent, unable to say a word, shock seizing his throat, no sound escaping, because the two sentences Yakov spoke, calmly, resigned, with a voice void of any emotion were intended to do it, were intended to hit his innermost being, were intended to hurt.   
  
Shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts, his steps heavier than before, fuelled by anger, he starts walking faster. He may have no clue where he is going, but maybe if he walks faster he will at least get out of this forest, find _something_ , maybe even civilisation. A fresh start. Somewhere where nobody knows who he is.   
  
_We arranged for someone to marry you. You cannot keep behaving like this anymore._   
  
It had hurt to hear it. He had known that it would be coming, sooner or later, but he foolishly had hoped it would be later, had foolishly hoped Yakov would have mercy on him, would be a bit more patient, had foolishly hoped that Lilia could have swayed him concerning this.   
Oh how much of a fool had be been.   
  
Despite having thought about it time to time the decision to run away had been a rash one, not planned at all.   
  
_We arranged for someone to marry you. You cannot keep behaving like this anymore._   
  
He had been paralysed at first, but when his thoughts had come back, when the blood that had drained from his face had rushed back in full force, there was only panic left. Panic and no thinking. He hadn't thought at all.   
  
A weird calm had possessed his mind, calm and panicking at the same time. He had just shut down.   
  
Pressed into a corner he had no way out.   
  
_We arranged for someone to marry you. You cannot keep behaving like this anymore._   
  
He had packed the first things that had come to his mind and he had run.   
  
_We arranged for someone to marry you. You cannot keep behaving like this anymore._   
  
There was no destination, there was no thought of ever returning. His only thought was to _get away_.   
  
_We arranged for someone to marry you. You cannot keep behaving like this anymore._   
  
It was just him.   
Just Yuri and the clothes he was wearing on his body.   
  
_We arranged for someone to marry you. You cannot keep behaving like this anymore._   
  
Yakov had been right.   
  
What he had said was right.   
  
_You cannot keep behaving like this anymore._   
  
He _couldn't_ keep behaving like this anymore.   
  
He couldn't keep running against the same wall again and again.   
  
He couldn't keep fighting with Yakov again and again.   
  
He was tired of discussions, of fights only moving in circles, around and around again and again.   
  
There had been nothing that had held him back.   
He was gone in an instant.   
  
\----   
  
It doesn't take long for him to find _something_. Or well, rather _someone._   
  
He hasn't seen a single person since he entered the forest. He hasn't seen a single person in days.   
  
He's actually surprised his father hasn't sent out a search party yet and if he has that they haven't found him.   
  
When the forest thins out and blends into wider meadows, littered with wild fruit trees, mostly pears and apples speckled with some cherry trees, he encounters a man.   
  
He's alone, tall, a little over 30 probably, perhaps older. His hair is strange, the upper, longer part blonde, the lower, short part brown. It's two colours, a little curly and it doesn't look exactly natural.   
The man is standing on his tiptoes, no, his tip _toe_ to reach the fruit, that he plucks down from the lower branches of the trees and collects in a big basket that is designed to be carried on the back. Next to the basket there are two more bundles, one filled with different weeds and herbs and the second one filled with branches for fire making.   
  
His tip _toe_ because the man, plucking apples and pears from trees with graceful ease as if he had never done something else, only has one leg.   
  
The other one is a stump, cut off just at his knee.   
The man is only standing upright because of a metal rod sticking out from under his trousers.   
It's a prosthesis.   
  
Of course Yuri has heard about them. Has heard about people missing limbs, because of wars, because of work accidents, because of wild animals. Has heard about replacements.   
But he has never in his life seen it, has never seen something like this.   
  
If Yuri hadn't seen the metal shining in the sun, hadn't looked at the mans feet, he would have never known. He doesn't move a bit differently.   
  
Having heard his approach, having heard that he had stopped, the man turns around, looks at him, tilts his head.   
  
"Oh. Well hello.", he says in a deep voice, melodic. It's a nice voice, but Yuris eye is twitching already.   
  
The man gives off a creepy vibe, and he managed to piss Yuri off just simply with the phrasing of his greetings.   
  
He doesn't greet back. He just stares, angrily.   
  
"Don't you think you're carrying a little much for your age, old man?", he sneers.   
  
The man simply smiles.   
"Christophe. Christophe Giacometti. You can call me Chris. Are you offering to help me?"   
  
Yuri recoils.   
"What?! No. Of course not. Why would I even carry your stuff for you? It's your fault you're carrying so heavy."   
  
"Ah. Well maybe you are too weak to carry all of this, too, you're right. Of noble birth, too. You rich people don't know true hard work. You could never work as hard as we simple people. Me, being disabled no less. Look, I'm missing half of a leg and I still carry a heavier burden than you. You must simply not be able to do so. But I can't and I won't fault you for that.", Christophe says, smiling. There's something wrong about it, but Yuri ignores it.   
  
"Haaa?!?! You think I couldn't carry the same weight as an old man with only one leg?! Oh I'll prove you wrong!", he shouts at the man, taking the bait without noticing.   
  
"Aaah. Does that mean you will carry my stuff?", Christophe smiles, like he has just won a game. And he has.   
  
Yuri, already loading the basket onto his back, taking up the bundles, too, one on each arm, doesn't see it and ignores the question.   
  
The people living close, everyone would have known not to go near Christophe Giacometti.   
The man is known for being a witch.   
Or that's what the inhabitants say.   
  
Nobody knows who he actually is. He just showed up one day, living in the mountains, lacking a leg and a sense of modesty, of decency. People keep their children away from him in fear of tainting their innocent souls and they stay away themselves because the man is creeping them out. His aura is unnatural, together with his coloured hair and the way he moves, despite his stump, it unsettles people.   
  
They feel like he doesn't belong, like he shouldn't be.   
  
They know to stay away.   
  
  
But Yuri doesn't.   
  
When he tries to shake his load, tries to put the bundles and the basket down again, because damn it, he may be of noble birth and he may be weak, because he cannot carry all of this. But he is okay with that, because it is heavy, way heavier than anticipated.   
There is no way am old man with only one leg can carry this much alone.   
So when he tries to shake it, to set it all down again, he finds himself unable to do so.   
The bundles stick to his arms, no matter how hard he pulls, they do not get off.   
The basket on his back is not much better. The carriers wind themselves tight around his chest, just not tight enough to constrict his breath. He can't even get a single finger under them.   
  
It's heavy and now he's already sweating, but he is nothing if not stubborn.   
  
He takes a step.   
  
His legs nearly give out under him, barely holding him upright, he stumbles but manages to steady himself again.   
  
"Goddamn fuck. I can't carry this and I won't! Get it fucking off of me!", he practically shouts at Christophe. The other man simply smiles, not without some malice.   
"Oh darling. Can't shake them?", he asks, coy, with a hand on his cheek. Yuri huffs. From exhaustion or from annoyance, most likely from both.   
  
"Well duh, shithead. Now don't just stand around there like a motherfucking son of a bitch, get them fucking off of me!"   
  
Christophe just chuckles, amused at the swearing.   
"Oh if you can't shake them how would I, an old man, lacking a leg be able to do so? I can't compete with your youth, honey.", he says, in a mocking lilt and it only serves to make Yuri angrier and angrier.   
He's shaking now, both from the heavy weight and from the absolute fury running through his veins.   
  
"Like hell if I know what you did to me with these, dickhead. They won't get off and they're fucking yours, you dirty asshole. Make them stop clinging!", he's shouting in earnest now.   
  
"Oh they will probably wear off when you have fulfilled your duty. Now let's go, since you're already carrying them anyways you can also carry them back to my hut. It's not that far of a way. Or do you think you can't do it?", the last sentence has a challenging tone to it. And it works.   
"Haaaaa? Try me, asshole, I can carry these forever. Of course I can do it! Don't fucking underestimate me.", he bites again, in his blind rage.   
  
So they start their way, Yuri slow and still boiling with anger, Christophe skipping next to him, humming contentedly.   
  
From time to time Christophe will make teasing remarks to spurr Yuri on, to make him go faster.   
  
Sweat is running from Yuris forehead into his eyebrows, slowly making it's way into his eyes. He tries to blink it away, but it only makes it worse. It burns when it touches his retina.   
It's also dripping from his lips and chin, leaving trails down his chest and soaking his already too warm tunic.   
  
It's unbearable.   
  
The heat is stifling now that they have left the cooler climate of the forest, switching dimmed light and green moss for open meadows and far away acres.   
  
They arrive at the foot of the hill, Chris still walking easily, still giving cheeky comments.   
  
It's absolutely not okay for him to be this cheery. It's absolutely not okay for him to still be able to rile Yuri up further, to be able to make him go faster despite him not wanting to.   
  
And it is _absolutely not okay_ for him to just hop onto the basket.   
  
Yuri let's out a frustrated scream of anger.   
  
"What do you think you're doing?", he shouts, after having recovered from the stumble that the added weight had brought.   
And Christophe isn't exactly light. Maybe it's the metal in his leg, maybe it's the weight of his rudeness and intolerableness.   
The man is a menace and not in a positive way.   
  
A very, very heavy menace.   
  
He stumbles a few more steps, swaying from side to side to find his balance again, before he rightens himself and stands.   
  
He will not take a simple step, will not walk any further with this perverted piece of horse shit on his back. The bundles and the basket were already heavy enough, more than he could carry, but with a fully grown, _very heavy_ person on his back, the bundles and the basket seem like the lesser problem.   
  
That is until Christophe whips out the _nettles_.   
  
At first he can't believe his eyes, doesn't register what the green, long rod is made of.   
But then Christophe smiles like the absolute unbearable sadist he is and shakes his hand in a quick, short movement.   
  
It's just close enough for the nettles to touch the skin of his arms.   
  
It _burns_.   
  
He doesn't scream.   
For that he doesn't have enough energy anymore and his pride forbids him.   
But he cannot keep a moan of pain slipping from his lips, turning into a weak whimpering. The pain of nettles is a mean one.   
  
The string of obscene curses tumbling out of his mouth just moments later is more prominent, louder.   
  
"Oh no no my dear noble fairy. Don't use such foul language. Come on. Go. I'm tired and my leg is acting up, you understand that right? And you are so strong you can carry me too, easily. Or aren't you?", he coos, from up on the basket, wiggling his legs -or well _leg_ \- to get comfortable.   
  
It is laughable how easily Christophe can play Yuri already. It is laughable that even though Yuri knows what he's doing, even though Yuri knows that it's a bait, he cannot not rise to it. He cannot not take it, cannot not bite back and snap, all the while walking again.   
  
Every time Yuri slows even the tiniest bit it is followed by nettles grazing his legs, sometimes his arms, and after that a familiar shout of curse words. They get more colourful, louder and abundant the longer they are on their way.   
  
The nettles sting and the path that winds up the mountain, the steep, rocky path that he needs to walk on, is completely in the sun. If he won't be sunstroke too, he definitely will still get a sunburn. Not even talking about the heat, the oppressing, unbearable heat.   
  
They make their way slowly, despite Christophes valiant effort to get Yuri to walk faster.   
It's a miracle he even is walking at all.   
  
But they do make way, Yuri grumbling and cursing, Christophe smiling and teasing, until after a while, a rather long while, maybe a few hours, the trees begin to get lighter, slowly opening to reveal a mountain meadow.   
  
The grass is long, with different kinds of grass stalks standing up higher than the others, their heads hanging with seeds. They sway in the light breeze that makes the leaves on the trees rustle and lets Yuri breathe a little bit easier, cooling his sweat and the burns the nettles have left.   
A few lost flowers, mostly daisies are littering the meadow here and there, but they're letting their heads hang, missing the rain the heat does not let them experience. The grass, too, is on the verge of turning yellow or brown or perhaps a mix of both. Only in the shadows of the trees it had kept its lush, green colouring.   
  
"Just across the meadow, there, you can already see the house. It's not far anymore.", Christophes voice has gone softer, nicer and somehow it lays itself around Yuri like a warm blanket.   
Except it's summer. It's hot.   
Yuri doesn't need nor want a warm blanket.   
  
He snarls, but starts walking again, a little faster now that he has his goal, his final destination in sight.   
Chris doesn't need the nettles anymore, because despite being _exhausted_ Yuri keeps walking, keeps finally getting it over with.   
  
\---   
  
The house is tiny.   
It's wedged in close to the rock, but not too close, not even touching it.   
The surroundings are dipped in sunlight, and even though the sun is still burning with force, somehow through squinted eyes the place looks softer. There is an old apple tree standing not far from the little hut, it's big, and the branches are bend down by the heavy weight of the bright, red, luscious apples. Under it stands a bench, an old thing, looking worn down from use and weather. It's halfway in the shadow and Yuri wishes he could just lay down there.   
Somewhere close he can also hear the lapping and splatter of water, but he cannot see the lake, no matter how close it must be.

  
The house itself looks like it barely has four rooms and the ceiling is probably low. But despite being small, it is in good shape. The wood doesn't look completely new, but it also doesn't look older than a few years. It differs from slat to slat and it looks like some of them were replaced recently. The tiles on the roof are not different.   
Yuri supposes that behind the wood there is stone, that the wood is just there for the looks. It would suit Christophe just right.  
It's probably inside, too, to keep the walls warm to the touch.   
  
It looks homey.  
  
Next to the house there is another one, smaller, and when they come closer Yuri can see that it's a cote, sharing a wall with the house.   
  
The geese chatter and flap their wings excitedly when they come closer.  
  
\---  
  
At the door they are greeted by a man.  
He's younger than Christophe, but older than Yuri.   
His hair has a weird styling. It's not short, definitely not, but it's not exactly that long either. It doesn't even reach his shoulders.  
His nose is crooked, his face scarred and ugly beyond words.   
The only thing noticeable are the eyes. They are dark, such a deep shade of brown that they seem black and their piercing gaze is steady when it falls onto them both.  
  
Yuri looks away first.  
  
"You are late.", the stranger says and even though Yuri has looked at him just a second ago, he takes another look, reassuring himself that it's the same person he thought he saw.   
  
It is.  
  
It's still the same ugly face with the ugly hair staring back at him and the voice doesn't match him at all.  
  
Because his voice is beautiful.  
  
His voice is that of a young man, soft, deep and exactly like the blanket that Yuri hadn't wanted earlier, but now craves desperately. It's warm, but there is a question there, determined. The man whose voice is like music knows what he wants, is sure of himself.   
Yuri envies him for it.   
  
"Oh Beks, honey, did you wait for me? Were you", Christophe pauses dramatically," _worried_?", there's glee sparkling in his eyes, and a smile, a sincere one, even though he is still teasing, spreads on his face.   
The man is something dear to Christophe, Yuri can feel it.  
  
The man levels Christophe with a deadpan stare.  
For a second Yuri lets himself be relieved that the intense focus of this gaze isn't directed at him anymore.   
  
"Of course I waited. I am hungry. It took you long enough.", he says, voice void of emotion, void of any inner movement.   
Directing his gaze back at Yuri again he asks:"Who is that?"  
  
Yuri had been wrong. Earlier he only had felt that his gaze was intense, but that wasn't even close to describing it. The mans gaze held a force, something gentle, but amazingly, incredibly strong. There was no escaping it, no looking away, no running away, no hiding. No hiding of emotion, no hiding of truth. The gaze was piercing but that, too, didn't even come close to describing it. It felt as if now, that the mans undivided attention, the full force of his eyes was directed at Yuri, hit him, there was nothing that he could do but stand there and let these eyes see all the truths about him that he couldn't hide anymore.   
  
"Oh this wonderful young man here?", Christophe asked while gracefully jumping down from the basket. While _finally_ jumping down from the basket.  
"Ah this is Yuri. He thankfully offered me his help with carrying all of these heavy things. He's such a nice young man. And see, when my leg acted up and I got tired, he even offered to carry me up the mountain on top of everything else! I couldn't refuse such a nice offer of course.", Christophe says.  


Yuri doesn't know how he knows his name -he never had ended up introducing himself and he hadn't really wanted to either- but the confusion about that fact is overshadowed with the anger about the lies Chris told. He offered to carry him?! Bullshit. He had helped him voluntarily?! Bullshit too.   
  
"Oh don't give me that crap.", he says, at the same time as the other man, with a deadpan stare again, offers a:"Yes, I'm sure you were very convincing."   
  
It is obviously sarcastic, even though it takes Yuri a few seconds to realise it, because the man just seems so serious.   
But so apparently he knows that it hadn't been completely voluntarily.   
  
He seems nice. Yuri likes him. He has an aura of blunt honesty to him and the sarcasm, the mischief that twinkles in his eyes is something Yuri appreciates, too.   
They might have been friends given time, given another situation.   
  
Christophe just laughes and chuckles to himself.   
"I'll just go inside and go fetch him his reward. You go inside, too, yes darling? We don't want any unnecessary romantic or sexual tension. He might fall in love with you!", Christophe grins. He's not joking, but knows that the statement might seem like he is.   
  
Yuri snorts.   
  
As much as he had just admired the personality, the being of the other man, there was no way he could fall in love with him in such a short time. And the face that the man wears isn't exactly nice to look at. Even if Yuri would be able to fall in love with the person, the appearance would make it harder. And he knows that this seems arrogant and shallow, but the man truly is the ugliest person he has ever seen.   
  
"Go help Yuri to lay down the basket and the bundles and take them inside with you. Yuri, you can just sit down at the bench over there, under the apple tree, I'm sure that's something you can enjoy. Rest a little, I'll be with you in a few moments.", and with these words Christophe is gone and they are alone.   
  
The other man levels him with a gaze after rolling his eyes at Christophe and only after a few moments moves to help him.   
He first takes the bundles from his arms, without any trouble and lays them down onto the ground, just next to the door. Then he takes the basket, puts his hands under the carriers, where earlier Yuri couldn't even get a single finger beneath. It's mesmerising to watch and the mans hands are warm, broad. They don't seem too calloused, too rough, similar to the hands of a noble, but not the same and Yuri briefly wonders what hands like this are doing here.   
But then these hands are on his shoulders - _his sweaty shoulders_ , he briefly panics-, lifting the basket away easily as if it did not weigh anything at all.   
  
Yuri can't bring himself to look the man in the face.   
  
Facing half away from him, the man shoulders the basket himself, hoists it into shoulders that seem strong, too strong for it to just be the work around the house.   
  
The geese gaggle when he also takes up the two bundles from the ground.   
  
He gives them his attention and they quiet down, only cooing softly under his steady look.   
They like him a lot.   
  
When he turns towards the door again Yuri calls out to him.   
  
"Oi. What's your name?"   
  
The man is silent for a moment, after he has turned his head towards him. Silent, considering.   
  
"Otabek.", finally comes the response and he turns fully now, walks on through the door and leaves Yuri standing outside, alone.   
  
He sits down on the bench. The bench that is halfway in the sun, halfway in the shadow, the bench that is old, the bench that feels like heaven to Yuri as soon as he touches it, sits down on it.   
He props up his feet onto it, too, slipping out of his shoes and positions them in a spot of sunlight, warming them just the right amount. His face is in the shadow, his eyes slowly - _finally_ \- adjusting to the brightness of the day.   
He closes them anyways.   
  
Yuri falls asleep to the soft chatter of the geese.   
  
—

Yuri is woken up by a hand shaking his shoulder.   
He opens his eyes blearily, confused for a moment, not knowing where he is, not knowing who the person shaking him is.   
But then everything aligns again, the heavy past sleep daze giving way to his renewed anger.   
It's Christophe, standing over him, his face too close for Yuris comfort.   
  
"I didn't know you had another expression despite anger. Wow a man truly never stops learning!", he teases, but at Yuris scowl -or at least Yuri supposes it's because of his scowl, because what in the world could get Christophe to be serious?- his laugh smoothes over and his face gets serious for once, even a slight wrinkle forming between his oh so perfect eyebrows.   
  
Maybe it's the expression that gets Yuri to shut up, maybe he's still a little dazed from his nap.   
  
"You need to leave, Yuri. You can't stay here.", Christophe says. He takes Yuris hand in his and he recoils immediately, pulls his hand back, trying to get it free. But Christophe holds onto it, with more strength than Yuri would have thought he possessed.   
When he presses something into the palm of Yuris hand Yuri stops struggling and holds still.   
  
"This is your reward for your help. But you need to leave now.", he says, without loosing any of the seriousness Yuri hadn't thought him capable of at all. The man is full of surprises.   
  
With a last look at Yuri, something knowing in his eyes that gives Yuri a feeling of uneasiness, and a slight smile on his face, he turns and walks to the house again, closing the door with a cheery wave, back to normal again.   
Yuri can hear the slight _thunk, thunk_ of the metal leg for a few seconds, then silence.   
  
Of course it's not completely silent, but it's as silent as it can get right now. The crickets are still chirping, the wind is still rustling through the grass and the leaves, the lake patters away and there are birds singing.   
A butterfly flutters right past him, only centimetres away.   
The apple tree creaks in the breeze.   
  
It's peaceful, beautiful and Yuri stares, fixated at his hand.   
  
He can't tear away his gaze, can't tear it away from the small emerald box sitting on his palm.   
  
It's beautiful, of course it is, and it is made from one piece, one stone, one emerald. It's shimmering green in the dancing sun specks, reflecting some light and absorbing the rest, giving it a look like it's glowing.   
There's a shadow of something in there, something oval, round, drop shaped, but Yuri doesn't really know how to open the box nor does he really want to.   
  
It's useless.   
  
What is he supposed to do with an emerald box?   
_At least it's valuable_ , he thinks, _at least I can sell it, get money and have a cushion._   
  
But then his thoughts wander further. Why the fuck does Christophe even have an emerald box?! He's living in the mountains for gods sake. He certainly doesn't seem rich.   
  
Trying to simply not question it and accepting the gift as it is, Yuri stands, emerald box put away into his bag. His bag that is hanging now from his shoulder, light as feathers in comparison to the weight he had carried just a few hours prior.

The sun is hot up on the mountaintop and Yuri soon is sweating again, not from the weight this time, not from exertion, simply because of the unrelenting force of the sun.

He squints up towards it, sticks his tongue out for good measure then takes his hair into his hand, his long, now unkempt hair that shields his neck from the sun, but also keeps all the heat inside.

He pulls it together, twists it into something resembling a bun and sticks it into place, hoping it will hold, hoping the gentle breeze that now caresses his neck will never stop.

His steps are light and he feels refreshed, feels strong as if he could take on the entire world and come out of the fight as the winner.

The walk down the mountains, down to where the forest starts up again is easy, way easier than the way up. Stones are on his way, sometimes he crosses a meadow.

He weaves his way through the high grass and nearly hums, because it’s peaceful, it’s beautiful and it’s the happiest he’s been in months, just by himself in nature.

When he arrives at the forest, when the plants finally grow tall again, not just the small excuses of trees that mountain pines are, he is quiet, smiling.

A group of deer is standing in the underwood, looking up from where they were grazing when they notice him.

He knows that one wrong step can make them flee, can make them run away and hide from him for good.

He places his feet carefully, keeping an eye out for the group and walking around them in an appropriate distance. He doesn’t want them to abandon their spot just because of him.

He finds back to the path, the path that seems old and narrow, grass growing on the ground, looking like it isn’t used by many people.

It probably isn’t, judging that only Christophe and Otabek live up there.

Otabek.

What a weird person. What an interesting person.

Yuri feels like there are so many layers hidden under that scarred face, that scarred face that Yuri cannot not find unbearingly ugly even though he knows not to judge people for appearance, even less so for scars they earned. So many layers that Yuri feels like he will never see, will never be able to explore.

Because he is walking away from the man now.

Every step makes for another step more between him and Otabek.

But it also makes another step between him and Christophe so Yuri doesn’t feel bad for too long.

He thinks _maybe, maybe if we had more time together, maybe if we meet again, then, maybe I will get used to the scarring. Even if it seems just so_ wrong _._

Yuri doesn’t know how to handle the emotions that flow through him, because why is he even thinking about this? Why in the world would he think of Otabek in that way? Is it because Christophe, the bastard, implied something about them and he’s just overthinking it or is it because he actually could be able to feel something more than just slight appreciation for the man?

The man who’s hands he can still feel on his shoulders, taking away the heavy basket, touching them gently.

The man who looked him in the eyes and Yuri could not read a single emotion form the charcoal irises.

The man who is so ugly and revolting and yet has such a caring personality and is loved by the geese he herds, loved so much that they thrive for his attention.

Yuri finds himself turning around, looking back, through the trees, through the underwood where he can still make out the deer, but not being able to look further.

There’s a slight glint of light green in the distance, _the meadow,_ Yuri thinks, but the house is too far to see now.

He’ll never go back there probably, will never see the men again.

Somehow Yuri’s glad for it.

  
  


Later when the path he walked on merges with the road on the foot of the mountain, he can’t help but think that he just crossed the mountain, crossed into the mountains, into another country, can’t help but think that his fathers groups will not be able to find him here at all.

He doesn’t know how to feel about the realisation.


	2. Findings

The sun is getting lower and lower, starting to take on a red shine, not as bright for the eyes anymore, the shadows between the trees growing colder.

It’s not evening yet, but it will be in considerable time.

Yuri counts his steps in his head, _one, two, three, four, five_ , he counts, just to not think of something else. His breathing is slow, calm, every breath takes two steps. _One, two,_ he counts, then breathes out, _one, two._  
It’s something he learnt for himself to keep his focus somewhere where it can do no harm, it’s something he uses to calm down when he‘s angry or to distract himself when he is thinking of something he doesn’t want to think about.

This time, it’s the latter. It’s the house and the missed chances and the geese flapping their wings - _one, two three, four_ ,.., he counts.

The road leads him to open field again, similar to the way that the forest grew lighter when he met Christophe. There’s acres at some point and meadows with cattle in the distance.

The road crosses all of it until it leads up to a town. 

Maybe this can be his new beginning.  
Maybe this town can be his chance, his new life.  
Maybe here he can find happiness.

He doesn’t know where exactly he is, doesn’t remember which direction he even left in and even if he would remember, after he hopelessly got lost in the forest he wouldn’t have any orientation anymore anyways.  
He doesn’t know which kingdom this town belongs to. Maybe it’s still his home country, maybe it’s one of the next ones. 

The mountains build the border, marking down where one country changes into the other and at this particular point there are three.  
Three countries, three kingdoms he could be in.

But he crossed the mountains or well, crossed into the mountains, crossed the border. He’s not in his home country anymore, he knows that.

He makes way for the town anyways. 

The way is longer than it seemed, but nothing Yuri can’t handle. It’s an easy road, easier than in the forest, because here there are no fallen branches or bigger stones that somehow found their way onto the path. 

His steps slow when he nearly has arrived.  
He’s anxious.  
He never has been to another town than his own before. He doesn’t know how to react, how to act. What if this country has some other cultural rules and he’s being super rude upon meeting someone? 

Rationally he knows that whatever kingdom he is in, the culture is not too different.  
After all it hasn’t been long since they all had been one kingdom. They are still allied, but now independent. Yuri still can’t help but worry.

He’s probably farther west, judging by the outward appearance of the town, of the buildings. 

There’s a castle, behind the town, it’s walls slowly shrinking behind the closer coming house fronts. 

There’s life in this town, Yuri can feel it, hear it. There are animals making noises, windows being thrown open, people conversing, walking, living.  
It’s dimmed where Yuri stands, but it’s still there.

He stops for a moment, feet undecided, not knowing if he really, really wants to do this.  
But he needs to.

His legs move in their own accord, brain having not yet caught up with them. The town is getting closer but he hasn’t thought through all the possibilities. What does he even do if everyone ignores him? Or is mean to him? Or just doesn’t want him there, tells him to get lost in the mountains again?

He could always go back to Christophe, Yuri thinks, and just a moment after that irrational, that _stupid, stupid, stupid_ thought appeared he thinks that he absolutely cannot do that ever.  
What an idiot. Why would he go back to Christophe out of all people?

His anger is irrational, he knows that, because Christophe hasn’t done anything at least not now, otherwise he has done plenty and he isn’t even present at this moment. 

But the burst of emotion has cost him time, has cost him way. 

He’s not as far from the city anymore, steps having accelerated together with his blood pressure.  
He still hasn’t thought this trough, still hasn’t thought about every possibility and what he is going to do. He knows this is his anxiety talking, the anxiety that he so carefully tries to hide, but that he can’t help but let loose at this moment. 

He’s still outside of the town, just at the rim where the first houses are only a few metres away when he meets the two boys.

They don’t look like they belong to this part of the country, look like they would belong better a few kingdoms farther east. But they are here. 

They are both happy and smiling and chatting with each other until they notice him. Both continue smiling, smiling at him and now he can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed about his disheveled appearance.  
He’s not dressed as properly anymore and his clothes were sweaty just a few hours ago. There’s probably dirt sticking to his pants.

“Hey. You’re not from around here, are you?”, one of them asks. He’s the one that looks less shy, more outgoing and extroverted and he seems older than the other one. He has a bowl cut, a black one, the same dark colour as his eyes.  
Yuri can’t help but compare them to Otabeks.

He shakes his head, silently communicating until he can asses the situation, can asses the two boys properly.  
They’re both definitely older than him, even though he isn’t so sure with the younger one. He’s small and what people would call delicate in a girl and he sort of has a boyish charm with his big brown eyes, his freckles and his fluffy brown hair.  
He doubts they could take him on in a fight.

“I’m Phichit and this is Guanghong. We know our way around pretty well, wanna come explore the city with us? We can show you everything.”, the older one says. Phichit has a slight accent in his voice, something Yuri hadn’t noticed before when he first spoke, but now can’t help but focus on. He’s friendly and seems trustworthy.  
Yuri decides that even if he kinda likes phichit eyes and will trust him for now he still likes Otabeks best.

They all start walking, walking through the streets, Yuri sandwiched in between the two boys.  
To his left there is Phichit and to his right there is Guanghong. The latter doesn’t talk much, seems rather shy, especially in Yuris presence, but Phichit more than makes up for his lack of talking.

Oh and how he makes up for it.  
Yuri swears he never has known someone who talks as much as Phichit. Not Georgi who wails and will talk to everyone about how his heart is broken by Anya, that disgusting woman, not Victor who absolutely never can shut up, especially not when it comes to his future husband Yuuri, not Mila who is a gossip beyond all comparison.

Phichit trumps them all and Yuri wonders how he can talk so fast and so much and still breathe. 

He’s friendly, not too friendly, because he says and does what he wants, but exactly that makes him trustworthy for Yuri. He starts liking Phichit while the boy talks about the weekly market, the oldest houses in town, the one apartment where this grumpy old lady lives that you should never meet and the church that nobody uses, forgoing it for the mosque, and that people though was haunted because there were strange moans coming from it.  
Phichit wiggles his eyes suggestively and this is a picture Yuri did not want in his head.

Who would want to fuck in a church out of all places anyways?

When the tree have rounded the centre of the town and after another hour or so have also seen basically everything else there is to see, Guanghong and Phichit take him to a place that sells food and they get crêpes, something Yuri has never eaten, something that isn’t even typical for this region at all.

“The nobles love this stuff, so the chefs got the recipe. Now they sell it here too and I can’t say I’m complaining. Guanghong loves these.”, Phichit tells him, winking at his friend.  
The other rolls his eyes and Yuris lips quick up into a smile.

“But not as much as he loves a certain prince, isn’t that right?”, Phichit adds, after a beat and while Guanghong freezes, Yuris eyes narrow.  
A prince?

He looks at Guanghong searchingly, paying close attention to every detail.

“Oh shut up.”, Guanghong replies, his voice taking on a tone Yuri hasn’t heard before. It’s wistful, melancholic, sad, but also angry and embarrassed at the same time. There’s a slight blush dusting his cheeks. Is that how he sounds, too?

The atmosphere has changed, like there was a midnight blue veil draped over them, but someone forgot to add the shining twinkle of stars to complete the safeness of the night sky.  
It bears down on them and for a moment Yuri thinks the tension might snap.

But it doesn’t.

“Oh you know I’m only making fun. I’m sorry.”, Phichit apologises, slinging on arm around Guanghongs shoulder.  
“Do you wanna go see him now though? We could introduce dear Yuri here to the king and the queen so he’ll have it easier to make a good life here. We need to get back later anyways.”, he adds, even softer, his voice laying itself around Guanghongs shoulders like a velvet cloak, together with his arm.

The other one simply nods, the corners of his mouth still turned down a little, but looking better in general. Phichit looks at Yuri expectantly and when Yuri realises, after an embarrassingly long moment of time, that Phichit is waiting for him to give his okay too, he can’t hide the giddiness in his nod.

They start walking again, a different way than they have come, one that Yuri hasn’t walked yet, and it doesn’t take long for them to reach the end of the houses. 

The castle, the fort, is located a bit outside of the town, on a green hill, and it is bathed in gold tones from the light of the sinking sun. 

It’s beautiful with it’s turrets and towers, the intricate ornaments in the inner parts, but it looks strong nonetheless, up there on the hill with it’s strong walls and battlements, the moat in front of it, around it.  
The door, the bridge, is opened, but you can see that it is possible to seal it against an enemy attack.

The three cross the bridge, chattering still, or well, mostly Phichit talks. Their steps are soft on the wood, but noticeable to the ear.  
They’re not alone, of course not, the court of the king and queen is gladly visited, many nobles are keen on getting their rulers approval, but this is not why they are here. Or is it? Yuri isn’t sure.

The guards at the gate don’t spare them a second glance when they see Phichit and Guanghong.  
They both work here, Phichit as some sort of overseer for the staff and Guanghong as the princes personal assistants.  
He had blushed like crazy when he had talked about it, nearly erasing all of his freckles.

Phichit can apparently just organise nearly everything and this is how Yuri ends up wandering trough the long corridors of the castle, specifically the big, high one that leads up to the throne room.  
He hasn’t changed since he has entered the forest, hasn’t changed since he has carried bundles and the basket and Chris up the mountain and he can’t help but think that it must show.

Phichit straightens his collar and Guanghong brushes dirt away from his pants. They spray him in perfume, something flowery, but still heavy and then send him off into the lion’s den.

Yuri steps through the doors and in this absurd moment he silently is grateful for the lessons his father had have him attend when he was younger, because at least now he can stick to what he learned, has a script, something he can orient himself by and something he can just follow, execute and this is easy for him.

He doesn’t meet their eyes, doesn’t look at them at all and falls to his knees just in front of the dais where the twin thrones stand.  
For a moment he panics, because he doesn’t have anything to give, doesn’t have anything he can give as a gift to royalty, but then, after a few erratic heartbeats he remembers and his hand searches the folds of his tunic.

He brings forth the emerald box, gently laying it down to the queens feet.

He hears more than sees her calling forth an attendant with a movement of her hand to give her the little, shining box.

Yuri holds his breath in anticipation, waits for her to decipher the opening mechanism.

And finally she does.

Yuri only hears the soft thud of her body on the throne, sees the was her hand is clenched around the little box like her life depends on it out of the corner of his eye.

The entire room stills for a moment, frozen in time, because nobody had expected this to happen, least of all Yuri.

What had been in this box? He should have looked before, he knew it!

But Yuri does not have time to think his failure through to the end, because the king is standing now, because there are hands grabbing at his arms, yanking him back forcefully, pulling him to his feet and taking every possibility for him to flee or make a move against them. 

“Throw him into the dungeon.”, the king says and Yuri can hear the anger in his cool calculating tone.

He turns up his head just in time to see the king turn to his wife, the still unconscious queen until his head is forced down again by one of the guards holding him.  
They turn and start moving until a voice nobody did expect calls out.

“Stop. Let him go. I want to talk to this young man in private.”, he hears the shaky voice of the queen behind him.

Slowly he is released, the hands gripping his arms fall away and he turns around, falling down to his knees again.  
Why would the queen want to talk to him?

His thoughts start to rush through his head and it’s hard to breathe, hard to think in this chaos of thoughts, hard to understand what is going on.

“Rise. And follow me.”, she says serious, but not harsh, nearly a little bit gently. 

He follows her orders, because they were orders even if they weren’t framed like them, and because there is nothing else he can do. 

They end up in a smaller chamber, just Yuri and the queen, on the door only one guard, the queen’s personal guard, probably, someone she can trust.

“What is your name?”, she asks him.

The queen is a strikingly gorgeous woman. She is everything that her man is not, even though they share similarities like the dark hair and charcoal eyes, dark embers that bore into Yuris soul. The feeling is so familiar that it takes him aback and he stutter for a moment, not replying.

“Yuri Plisetsky.”, he says, not able to lie while looking into these eyes, framed by dark lashes.

The queen is not old, but she certainly isn’t young. Her still completely brown hair is long and healthy and falling in slight waves over her shoulders, down to her hips. She is wearing a green dress with long, wide sleeves that are ornated with golden accents.

The crown, rather the golden circlet in form of the sun is sitting loosely in her hair, looking as if it might fall every second, but Yuri knows it won’t.

She’s beautiful.

“Yuri Plisetsky. You are not from here. Let me tell you a story.”, she begins.

Yuri can only nod helplessly.

“I have been the queen of this kingdom for a long time. My husband and I married twenty two years ago. Only a year into a marriage our first son was born. The second and third one followed soon enough, all of them just a year apart.  
They were all good children and they got along well, but the youngest one always has been special. He was more beautiful than you can imagine, kind and he was gifted. Instead of tears, my son cried jewels and pearls. 

“When all of them were a certain age, their father, my husband came to think of heritage. That was three years ago.  
He wanted to decide who he would leave what after his death, but however much he thought about it’s he couldn’t decide, because he loved all of his children equally.  
He has always been a good father.  
But not in this moment.

“The king called all three of his children to him and told them about the situation. He then proclaimed that he would decide based on how much his children loved him.  
So he asked them, all the three of them “How much do you love me?”. 

“My children protested, of course. They all loved him the same and you can not compare love to anything. But the king insisted. He was relentless.

“I wanted to object but it had already been to late and Jean, my firstborn, had already spoken up. “Father, I love you like my dearest horse and everything that I own.”, he said. After thinking about it, my second son, Leo, he too gave a comparison. “I love you, father, like all the sugar in the world and everything sweet.”

“When it was Bekas turn, my youngest son’s turn though, he didn’t say anything. He did refuse to compare his love for his father to something material for that something could never be enough. And he was right.

“But my husband failed as a father on this day. He continued to insist that Beka would name something, anything.  
He pressured him into making a decision. And he did. Beka had always been intelligent and he put a lot of though into this, considered it, like he did with everything else. 

“After a while of pestering though, he finally had an answer:”I love my father like I love salt. For there is no food that tastes good without salt and for we would not be able to conserve our food for an extended period of time without it.”

“But, as you can imagine, this was not the right answer. The king was not happy with it at all. He got furious. Furious like i had never once in my life seen him. 

“I don’t know how it happened, but his temper got the better of him and he made the wrong decision. He divided the kingdom into two parts, one for Jean, one for Leo and Beka, he gave a bag of salt and sent him away. 

“We all begged for him, we all tried to convince the king that he would change his mind, but in his fury, he didn’t.  
My son, my youngest son, Otabek Altin, was sent into the forest, alone, with just a bag of salt on his bag. 

“The entire way was littered with jewels and pearls, he cried so much.

“Pearls exactly like the one that is in the box you brought to me.”, she finished, looking at him interested, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them. 

_Where did you get it from?_

Chris. But why would Chris have a tear shaped pearl that the youngest prince had cried? Why would he have a box carved out of one single emerald?

Otabek Altin. The youngest prince and son of the king and queen.

Otabek. The goose herd that Yuri had met in the mountains.

Yuris thoughts start racing. The Otabek that he had met couldn’t be the Otabek the woman in front of him was talking about. He was not beautiful, like the prince and he was in no place for a prince. Working in the mountains like a simple farmer, herding geese. 

But then Yuri remembers the hands that even though they had been calloused were too soft to be a simple peasants. He remembers the gentle, feathery touch in his shoulders, the kind look the other had given him, the way he had hesitated before giving out his name.

No matter how much he tries, Yuri can’t wrap his mind around it, can’t find another solution, because how would Chris have the box, the tear if it wasn’t the same Otabek? There are too many coincidences. 

“I might know where your son is.”, Yuri says, hesitantly, not wanting to give a mother too much hope, in case he isn’t right about this.  
He can’t be right about this.

“There is a man, living up in the mountains. His name is Chris.”, he finds himself saying and as soon as he has started he can’t stop telling her, because how could he withhold information that could possibly bring her back her son?

“He is a mean person, but not a bad one. He lives close to the top of the mountain, on a meadow, near some kind of water. There’s like a little house. 

“He had tricked me into carrying his bundles and basket and later him too, earlier today, this morning. When we arrived at his house there was this other man. 

I just -he was ugly. Really ugly, to be honest. He helped me put down my load. He herded the geese up there apparently. His name is Otabek, I know that for sure. I could probably find the house again if you want to give it a try.”, he says.

The queens eyes shimmer and she turns her head away for a moment.  
Yuri says nothing, remains silent until she has regained her composure. 

She looks back at him, directly into his eyes.

“Yes, Yuri Plisetsky. I want to give it a try.”, she says and Yuri holds his breath, because he knows why he recognises these dark black eyes, knows where he has seen them already.

“Follow me.”, she get’s up and leads him out into the main hall again. She motions for him to stay put at the foot of the dais and turns to whisper with her husband. 

When they have exchanged glances between them and looked at him for enough, the king rises, looks again at him, calculatingly. 

When he has found what he is searching for he motions for him to lead the way.

“We will come with you. It will be just the three of us. This is a personal matter.”, he says and his voice is low. 

The two paint a beautiful picture standing on the dais, looking like everything royalty stands for. 

The kings shoulders are broad, his hair a dark brown that nearly looks black in the light, his eyes steel grey. His eyebrows are expressive and thick, looking grim, but his eyes are twinkling with hope. His cloak falls over his shoulder, down his body that despite his age still is in very good shape. 

The queen is slim, but curvy, body pulled taunt like a bow. You can see the strength that lies underneath the soft folds of her clothes, underneath the soft waves of her hair, underneath the roundness of her cheeks, the skate edge of her chin. Her eyes are beautiful, Yuri can’t help but think, and so is she. She reminds him of Lilia.

Caught in the moment, it takes him a beat to turn away and start walking.  
If they notice they don’t comment on it. 

He leads them out of the hall, leads them through the big, long corridor he came through.  
They stop him, to show him a more discreet way out of the castle, but after that he is leading their way again. 

They have crossed the town in not even half an hour. 

They are all hurrying, because even if the light is still there now, it will be gone in an instant when the sun sets, something that will be soon, very soon.

Yuri doesn’t know why they didn’t wait just one day, but he finds that it is easier not to question the choices of the king and queen. 

They wander the road until he finds the way that branches off towards the top of the mountain.  
It looks different in the lower light, but he supposes he’s still good until it’s completely dark.

They wander in silence, the forests sounds mixing with their steps. 

There are leaves crunching, small branches breaking, the wind rustling in the treetops, little animals moving.  
A bird calls, sings it’s last song for the day. 

They walk for a while and except for paths of animals there is no way leading off of the one they are walking upon. 

Until there is. 

The way splits into two and Yuri just stands there. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know which way he came from.  
He didn’t even notice that there was more than one way at some point.  
It’s dark now and everything looks different now and he came from the other side so it looks different too, and he didn’t really pay attention to the way anyways.  
So he just stands there. 

The queen is the first to notice that they have stopped. 

“Do you not remember which way?”, she asks and he can already feel his shoulders rising. His entire body goes taunt, readying himself for what is to come. 

He shakes his head slightly, not being able to open his mouth and form words, because he knows, he knows for sure that if he will there’s only gonna be cursing and yelling coming out if it for it is his only defence. 

But to his surprise, she just looks at him softly, her face not having changed a bit. 

“That’s okay. You didn’t know you had to find the way back again, did you?”, she asks and Yuri can’t believe it. His entire body relaxes instantly, not in anticipation of the blow that did not come anymore. He shakes his head, mouth slack. No, he did not know that he would need to find this way again.  
He had wanted to forget it.

She lays a hand onto his shoulder, squeezing it so lightly that Yuri isn’t sure if he hasn’t imagined it and smiles. It’s incredible, mesmerising and Yuri can’t tear his eyes away, because even if he hasn’t known this woman for very long, he knows that she is not one to smile, her face rigid in a show of no expression almost the entire time.  
It’s just a simple quirk of the corners of her mouth, really, but Yuri feels as if he has seen heaven. 

He nods again, finding his composure.

“Then I propose we split up.”, the voice of the king comes from behind his wife and Yuris eyes snap up at him.

“You can cope on your own, right?”, he asks, looking at him. Yuri nods once again.

“Then we will take the right path and you the one to the left. We will meet at the house or at this crossroad at midnight when the moon stands the highest.”, he says, curt and decided and nods his head once at Yuri, once at the queen.

They both look at him and Yuri nods too, turning away from them towards the left path. 

He starts walking into the darkness with heavy steps. 

It hasn’t been long since he was alone in the darkness, but that doesn’t make it any less scary. 

There’s movement in between the trees and even if his eyes are used now to the lesser light, he can’t see as much as in the daylight.  
He doesn’t know if it’s just deer in the bushes or if it’s a mountain cougar. 

He reasons that cougars would probably be too quiet for him to hear anyways.

He startles more often than he wants to admit in the time that it takes him to comes to a meadow. It’s not the one at the top of the hill, that he knows, but he thinks he remembers a clearing next to the path at some place. 

There is a vague shape in the middle of it and only after he comes closer he recognises it as a well. 

He’s frustrated by now, frustrated and tired.  
He decides that if he wants to find the house again, he will need someplace where he can see better.

He looks around and looks and looks and there is nothing around him, nothing except the meadow, the well and trees, endless lines of trees. 

His mind focuses onto them, zones in and his focus becomes linear. It’s just…. trees. A lot of trees. 

Yuri thinks that if he wants to see better he could climb one.

It’s a stupid idea. It’s not exactly safe to just climb some tree, especially not in the dark, and it’s definitely not fun. The bark is rough and leaves stains on his hands, little pieces of dirt that no matter how much he tries to brush them off, he can’t shake.  
They stick to his hands, and they are not going to let go anytime soon, because his hands are starting to get sweaty in the mild temperatures of the late summer evening.  
The cold evenings haven’t started yet.

So yes, it’s a really stupid, dumb idea, but Yuri goes through with it, stubbornly heaves himself up branch after branch. 

He’s making sounds, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to care.

About midway up the trunk, he decides to take a short break.  
There’s a little bit of wind rustling through the leaves close to him and Yuri finds himself relaxing, turning his face into the soft breeze. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, but they snap open when he hears movement on the ground. 

It doesn’t stem from his side of the clearing, and not from the side opposite. It’s nearly perfectly in between, maybe a bit closer to Yuri, but to his left, down from the mountain steps a person onto the soft grass at the edge of the meadow.

It’s dark, but the moon gives everything a silvery shine. 

It’s a full moon, almost starting to fade already and Yuri is greatful for it.  
The light takes his fear, takes every wrong suspicion away because it is a human, not an animal and this human looks familiar.

Looking around himself, the man, because it is a man, Yuri can see that much, makes his way to the middle of the meadow, moving closer to Yuri in the process. 

He’s cautious, looking around every moment and if that would not have given him away, it would have been the set of shoulders hunched up nearly towards his ears.

There is something secretive about the man, the man that appears out of nowhere on a clearing in the middle of the night.  
Yuri is intrigued, entranced, no bewitched by the sight.

He can’t move, doesn’t dare breathing because everything, every tiny movement in the trees, every jitter of a branch, every inaudible sound could make this man go away and Yuri does not dare to even risk this.

The moon shines bright and Yuri sees it when the man steps towards the well, lays his hands on the margin and looks around once more. He hesitates for a moment, unsure, as if he feels that is being watched, that he is not alone. 

Then he peels of the skin on his face and takes off his hair.


	3. Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry this took so long. First of all happy new year to everyone and second I want to say that this only took so long because plans were changed and something came up that made me unable to post. I wasn’t home and had to work and was sick too. I hope you can forgive me.  
> Have fun reading this now tho, with the gorgeous art that you can also find here:  
> https://icetiiger.tumblr.com/post/180597658036/its-finally-time-to-post-these-bad-boys-and-i

After Yuri has left it is quiet in the house on the mountain. 

Otabek and Christophe don’t talk much, only do the work that has to be done until night falls over them and the sun has set behind the mountains. 

They go inside and continue their work there in the flickering warm light of candles and the fire that burns bright in the fireplace. 

They spin yarn and they spin and spin and they don’t talk much, because it’s just not something they do.

When not only the sun, but also all it’s light outside is gone, Christophe looks up, contemplating.

An owl sounds, once, twice. 

Otabeks fingers stop twisting the chord, his foot stops the tapping motion. 

The spinning wheel stands still.

“It’s time. Go out, down to the well. Hurry tonight, let’s have a talk later. I’ll start cleaning the house already, don’t take too long, I wouldn't want to do it all by myself.”, Christophe says. He sounds stern, nearly sinister when he starts, but his tone soon flits back to that teasing lilt of his that Otabek is so used to.

He gets up, puts the left over wool into it's basket and pins the patch he was working on to the spinning wheel, to be finished some other point in time. He gets up, dusts his hands on his pants and turns to the door. 

The owl sounds again.

“I’ll be back in no time,” he says, closes the door behind him. 

He’s off down the mountain in no time. It’s not exactly far from the house, though it isn’t really close either. The well comes into sight and Otabek starts to look around himself. 

He could swear there had been a sound not a moment ago.

He takes a step, a careful, silent step onto the clearing and holds his breath.  When he hears no other sounds than the usual not quite silence of the forest, he takes a step more. And another and another until he has crossed half of the meadow, where the well stands.

Otabek sits down on its margin and after looking around once more, listening intently to the sounds of the forest, he strips of his skin and hair.

The moon shines bright that night and it eclipses his reflection on the water. He can’t see his face, but he doesn’t need to. He knows how he looks.

He looks up to the moon, once, before he bends over and dips his hands into the water. He washes his face, his hair, everything systematically. 

He grabs his skin and the hair and washes them in the water too, then lays them out to dry. 

He can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes.  He rounds the well and from this side he can see his image, face illuminated by the still rising moon. 

Otabek looks down into the water and his mother’s and father’s features look back at him. 

He starts crying in earnest, trying hard not to make any sound, his hand pressed to his mouth and he succeeds, if only because he has had years of practice.

Pearls leak out of his eyes, shimmering in the moonlight and they draw his gaze in more than ever. 

He collects them while crying, in the pockets of his trousers.

He cries and he cries and he cries like he does every night and he collects the pearls, one after the other into his hands, into his pockets, like he does every night.

He's lost in the process so that he nearly doesn't notice the sound the branch makes when it cracks.

His gaze flies up, and he thinks he sees a silhouette in one of the trees, but he doesn’t stay still long enough for a proper look. 

He scrambles for his skin and his hair and pulls both of them on again while running. 

Running across the meadow, through the forest. 

Otabek doesn't stop until he has reached the house.

One last look over his shoulder, one glance up to the moon and then he enters the safety of the house again, breathing heavy.

Christophe notices without doubt, but he doesn't remark on it. So Otabek does the same and stays quiet.

“Come here. You can clean the shelves. Wipe them down, here is water,” he motions to a bucket. 

Otabek complies, his pulse still high from the encounter and from running.

They clean for a moment in silence before Christophe, again, starts up conversation.

“Do you know which day it is?” he asks, side eying Otabek not so subtly.

He takes his time answering, turning the question over in his head.  It’s not a special occasion and nothing else comes to his mind immediately. 

He shakes his head.

“It's not bad,” Christophe says, ”You’ve been with me for exactly three years now.”

The weight of the words doesn't hit him fully until he thinks for a moment.

He can only blame his response on the high adrenaline that still runs through his blood. 

“Please don’t. Please don’t throw me out. You know I have nowhere to go. I can’t return and I can’t turn anywhere else. Please don't throw me out,” he pleads and he nearly doesn't dare to admit it but pearls prick on the edge of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I’m not throwing you out. Don’t worry so much,” Christophe says, smiles and he lays a hand onto Otabek’s shoulder. It’s comforting, in a familiar way that Christophe has become comforting to him. 

“We will part ways today, but don’t be too sad about it. You shouldn't worry, you will be taken care of. Now come, help me finish cleaning. Go wipe the table and then you will go into your chamber and change into the clothes you wore when you arrived here. Go shed that hair and that skin and make yourself presentable. Wait there then until I call you out. And don’t question it too much, darling,” he said, at first still serious, but taking up his usual teasing tone throughout his little speech.

Otabek wonders about his words, of course, but he lets them rest and puts them away into a far corner of his mind. He is used to that by now.

Don’t question Christophe, it's absolutely useless. You will never know what he thinks or plans.

  
  
  


Yuri is speechless. 

His mouth wants to form words, but can’t. His brain wants to form thoughts, but can’t. 

Yuri is utterly and completely speechless.

And maybe that’s a good thing, because maybe if he makes a sound, maybe if he even just simply thinks a single thing, this moment will be disrupted.

And there is a kind of magic in the air, something quiet, tinted silver shining in the moonlight. 

Yuri feels as if his world changes, is changed in this moment. 

Under the false hair, under the false skin stands a man before him. And this man is gorgeous.

There are no words on earth to describe him, there are no words as to the awe that Yuri feels in this moment.  His entire self feels as if it’s floating and he holds his breath, doesn’t dare disturb this single moment of time that is perfect, just so perfect.

He feels elated as if he’s ascending upwards and falling down, down, down at the same time. 

A single breath escapes his lips.

The man, the man that is Otabek, looks down into the well, looks down to where the water must be, looks down to where his reflection must show on the water, a silhouette before the big, silver moon.

The moment of stillness that follows, when Otabek holds his breath gives Yuri the time to really look, to real appreciate the sight in front of him.

Because he can’t get enough of the picture of this man, feels frozen as if his eyes are magically glued to this person. His world feels narrowed down and the only thing that counts is Otabek.

His hair is shorter. The sides are shaved, for convenience without doubt, but the top is left long. A few strands of dark, in the moonlight black hair falls onto his forehead, curled slightly. 

His skin is not white, but not the darkest Yuri has seen either. It’s unmarred, free from scars. 

His features are beautiful. There are no words to describe his round, but defined jawline, his soft cheeks, his strong, but sweet nose, his full lips, the upper one less so than the lower one. His features are gorgeous.

He finally starts moving again, sits down on the margin of the well and looks up to the moon for a moment. His face is overcome with light, flowing softly and touching down on the planes of his face. 

He looks like his mother, Yuri thinks and surprises himself with it.

He looks like his mother, ethereal beauty with an aura so surreal Yuri still doesn’t trust his eyes and his brain that the picture he sees is real.

He’a frozen in place, still when Otabek continues his routine.  He washes his own face and his own hair soon followed by the other skin and the other hair.  It's mechanical and Yuri still can't help but just watch.

He's enraptured and every single moment that plays out before him just seems so perfect. 

He stands there and watches Otabek and he just can't get enough. He does feel a little strange, a little bad about it, about the action, about basically spying on Otabek in a private moment but he cannot not look at him, cannot move his gaze away. 

The other man lays out his skin and his hair to dry and then he sinks down onto the margin of the well again, after rounding it, now standing at the other side.

And even if the atmosphere had been magic all along what follows is something Yuri can neither comprehend nor believe. 

He heard that the man cries pearls and jewels, knows that fact and even tho it had fought him, accepted it. He was done with it. 

But knowing about something and actually seeing it are different things.

He doesn't actually see them at first, but the magic in the air thickens and Yuri can almost feel it.

There are glittering drops falling out of Otabeks eyes. Yuri refuses to believe they are pears. His mind can’t wrap itself around what he is seeing.

But the tears, the  _ pearls _ are shining so brightly, so insistently at him in the dark that it's almost impossible not to believe it.

He's gorgeous.

_ Even while crying he is gorgeous,  _ Yuri thinks.

He can't help but lean a tiny fraction forward, just to get closer, just to see another inch more of this incredible man, just to confirm, to see them up close, the pearls.

He’s fascinated, enarmoured and he can’t stop looking- a twig breaks under his foot. 

The other man looks up like a fawn, scared and he scrambles to get his skin and hair back, back on and he runs. 

Yuri isn’t fast enough to process it and do something. He stands in the tree, branch under his foot broken and gapes.

It feels like he held something precious in his hands, like a raw egg and he squeezed just a little too hard, the shell cracking, breaking under his fingers.

He tries letting go again, standing still for a moment, because maybe, maybe if he just is quiet the man will return. 

But the egg is cracked and slowly the sticky egg white is running through his fingers. There's no way to make it whole again.

He climbs, bald falls down the tree, luckily it's not far.  He turns and runs, runs over the meadow and into the forest, through the forest, on a path that is used, trampled in by feet walking it every so often. 

He runs and runs but he can't keep up the tempo, not up the hill.  He’s been on his feet for days, has neither slept properly (except for when he was at the house in the mountains) nor taken a break for longer than necessary.  He’s exhausted so he figures no one can blame him when he stops running and falls into an easy walk. 

He follows the path, because the path is still there even though Otabek isn’t, and finally, finally finds his way out of the forest. 

There is a light, up ahead and he knows he’s on the right path.  He’s never seen the house or the meadow that it stands on from this angle and neither has he seen it by night. 

It’s can’t be too late, but when he looks up at the sky, the moon nearly shines so bright that he can barely make out the stars. He thinks he spots Orion.

He looks down again from the moon that had illuminated the clearing earlier so magically.  Instead he turns his eyes into the house again, the light point that he is headed towards. 

He starts walking again, hadn’t even noticed that he had stopped and picks up his steps. 

He’s halfway across his way when he sees silhouettes, darker than the night, on his right.  There are two people, too headed towards the light and Yuri thinks he can make out noises as they talk.

He changes course so that their paths cross.

It’s the king and the queen and they smile when he comes in sight.

“Your hair shines nearly silver in the moonlight. We saw you from the edge of the meadow,” the queen says and even tho her mouth nearly doesn’t move at all, her eyes crinkle and her expression is warm.

“Is this the house? We’ve been following the light of it since we saw it,” the king interrupts their talking -not that there had been much of it. 

Yuri simply nods, not really feeling like talking.

They start walking simultaneously, headed towards the house.  They walk in silence, but it's neither an oppressing one nor is the way long.

They come across the geese before they arrive at the house.

When they do it is the house even if it looks different than Yuri remembers. The warmth that the sunlight had given to the walls is gone, but the house as a whole still looks welcoming, if only because of the orange flickering light that shines through the windows. 

They stop at one, take a look inside. Yuri hasn’t seen the inside yet, of course he is curious. The King and the Queen are likely too.

It’s homey inside. Just like the outside looks sweet and nice by daylight, the inside looks warm, familiar and just comfortable. It’s small, but that only furthers the impression. 

Chris is nowhere to be seen in this room that seems to be the main one in the house, but the fire burns big and bright and warm so he can’t be far.

Yuri feels the need to tell them about the encounter at the well. His gaze is fixated in the fire, it’s drawing him in.

He takes a step back, takes another in the direction of the door. 

“I saw him. Your son, I mean. He was a little down the mountain at a well. He cried pearls so it really is him,” he ends up saying, but his eyes aren’t on the other two.

He lifts his hand, balled to a fist, ready to knock. He doesn’t feel ready to deal with Christophe again, but he doesn’t think think he will anytime soon either so now is as good a time as any.

But the door swings open under his gaze before his hand has even touched the wood. 

Christophe smiles at him in that full toothy cheeky annoying way of his. 

Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Hello darling~” he says and oh Yuri had already forgotten just how annoying that man was. 

“Come in, all of you. I already waited for you. Tea?” he asks and turns to walk down into the main room. His leg makes a dull  _ thunk _ every time he steps on it. 

Yuri follows him after a beat and so do the other two. He hears them whisper behind them and he can only begin to imagine what they must be thinking. He would definitely not want to have his son growing up with a man like Christophe for three years.

They all shuffle in, close the door behind them and make their way into the parlour.

It’s as warm as Yuri had thought and even though it isn’t ice cold outside, since it still is summer, it certainly wasn’t comfortably warm either. Yuri thinks he can hear the wind tearing at the walls of the house even now. 

They all sit in front of the fireplace and Christophe brings them tea.

“You could have saved yourself the way if you hadn’t thrown him out, you know?” Christophe sighs, uncharacteristically serious.

“But don’t worry,” he smiles, “He definitely didn’t have a bad life here. He might not have learned anything you royalty might deem very important, but it didn't hurt him to learn it. He herded the geese and helped me out around the house you know? He’s very good company to have.” 

Christophe grins and winks at them while they just stare.  Yuri doesn't really know what to make of the situation. But he knows that it will be any second now that the king, the queen and their missing child will be reunited.

And he’s not wrong. 

“Otabek, darling, please come in here now,” Christophe calls, already standing at a door Yuri hadn’t noticed until now.

It opens and all three of them stand, tea forgotten.

Through the door steps the most beautiful man Yuri has ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it maybe think about leaving kudos and/or a comment!


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